Sirius Comes Home
by Earwurm
Summary: Mrs. Black commands, Regulus daydreams, Narcissa plots, Sirius storms, Bellatrix socializes, and Kreacher axes dear old mum.
1. Mrs Black

Sirius Comes Home

Chapter One: Mrs. Black

Mrs. Odia Celandine Black received all visitors - family and strangers alike - in a large drawing room overlooking the grounds behind 12 Grimmauld Place. The view from that room was the envy of every wizard pureblooded enough to have had the chance to enjoy it. From her window Mrs. Black looked down over gardens set with beds of heavy, fragrant blossoms: foxgloves; blue roses, rare and spicy; and poppies from the far East. Lilies lounged against each other in clumps, preening a little. There were orchards filled with polished apples, greenhouses bursting with ripe fruit, and a small pond well-stocked with mermaids. The Black estate was quite extensive for Magic London, and magical illusion deepened the view, so that parks and fields extended on and on into the distance, almost to the horizon. At the very end of sight, phantom Himalayas rose above a stretch of shining sea.

In contrast, the window overlooking the steps leading to the front door of the Black mansion were kept firmly shuttered, with the velvet drapes drawn. The view would have been unpleasant in any case: although most of the houses opposite had been spared the worst effects of war and pollution, a fog of poverty and defeat seemed to hang over the square, and the neighbourhood had proved itself resistant to even the most determined efforts at gentrification. It was perhaps unsurprising that Mrs. Black chose to ignore this ugly part of muggle London, and had, in fact, not crossed her own doorstep in over fifteen years, preferring to travel by floo-power when travel was necessary. In any event, Mrs. Black could rely on house servants to inform her of goings-on within the neighbourhood of Grimmauld place. Or, when she chose to, Mrs. Black could gaze into the large oval mirror set beside the door of her drawing room, and ask it for a view of her home's front doorstep. But she rarely chose to ask for that particular view.

The interior of Mrs. Black's drawing room was not unimpressive. The chair in which she always sat was backed in rich green silk damask, and had polished armrests in the shape of serpents. This chair was currently set before a desk near the large open window. The desk held signs of recent and vigourous correspondence: it was covered in stacks of parchment (weighted down with a small music box), bottles of venomous-looking ink, and numerous quills. Her wand was on the desk, within easy reach. To Mrs. Black's left were shelves lined with heavy, leather-bound books; to her right was a small decorative table topped with a vase of drooping fetterbush, and a bell glass, in which delicate fragments of bird's down spun in the air, forming and reforming themselves endlessly into two figures dancing the Black Swan _pas de deux_. The far wall behind Mrs. Black was covered by a tapestry detailing the geneaology of the House of Black for the past nine centuries. At her feet, prostrate on the rich carpet, was a snout-nosed house-elf clad in a tea-towel. In Mrs. Black's carefully reasoned opinion, he did not do the room justice.

"Yes, Mistress! I mean no, Mistress! I mean­—"

"- and the drapes must be cleaned and the bed-linens washed. And make sure the rugs are thoroughly – _thoroughly_ – beaten and the floors swept and polished."

"Yes, Mistress!"

"Cook must be instructed to set two extra places at dinner. Narcissa has told me that Lucius Malfoy may dine with us. And my son Sirius is coming home – he will return from his visit to those Potters this afternoon. Make sure the silverware is polished."

"Yes, Mistress!"

"If cook requires ingredients from Diagon Alley you must fetch them yourself. To this end you may leave the house but must return immediately to 12 Grimmauld Place once your purchases are made. You must return by three this afternoon. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mistress!"

"This is a great responsibility."

"Yes, Mistress!"

Mrs. Black sighed. "Ordinarily such a task would fall to the current Kreacher. Only she – as my personal attendant – should be entrusted to leave this house unsupervised. However, since that unfortunate mishap with the tea-tray last Wednesday it has become clear to me that the current Kreacher can no longer fulfill her obligations as my right hand and major domo to the House of Black. No visitor in my home should ever be required to draw tape-worms from his navel whilst standing on his head. Not even a jumped-up little non-entity like Undersecretary Fudge. That particular incident did the House of Black no credit at all."

The house-elf eyed her. He knew that already.

Mrs. Black continued: "It is clear to me that it is time to appoint a new elf to the position of Kreacher. I have decided that you shall be the replacement. This is a great honour."

"Yes, Mistress!"

"As Kreacher, you will serve as my personal factotum, in any capacity I may require. You are charged with keeping order among the house-servants, tending to their well-being, and organizing their daily routine. But foremost, you are responsible for maintaining the dignity of the House of Black, and defending it from all enemies, internal and external, Wizard and Muggle alike."

"Yes, Mistress!"

"Your first duty in your new position is to behead and mount your predecessor. Give all the elf-heads a good dusting while you're at it: they are a little faded. Once that task is done you must prepare for my son's arrival."

"Y- yes, Mistress!"

Mrs. Black gave him an appraising look. She sighed again. It seemed to her that, despite the efforts she put into her house-elf breeding programme, the quality of the product fell year after year. The one currently at her feet was the unprepossessing best of a very bad lot. Her husband's mother had commanded a legion of Kreachers, all quick and hearty, all jumping to her lightest gesture, all scrambling for the honour of removing the least mote of dust from the path of their mistress. These days, Mrs. Black found each new litter of house-elves to be smaller than the last, with the pups increasingly feeble. They showed an tendency to ignore their duties, instead apparently spending most of their working hours staring blankly into space.

These musings provoked an unpleasant series of thoughts: regrettably, Mrs. Black's own offspring had turned out to be almost as disappointing as her house-elves. Sirius, once her joy, had been increasingly intractable during his visits home: determined to quarrel over her every comment (no matter how innocuous), easy to offend, bullheaded, obstinate, forever tormenting his female cousins, all of whom were more than capable of making nuisances of themselves even without Sirius goading them on.

Of course, Bellatrix, Andromeda, and Narcissa posed an entirely different set of problems, for which Mrs. Black could not really be blamed, although the three girls had been under her care far more that she would have liked, as their mother's numerous visits to St. Mungo's Janus Thickey ward meant that the three girls were frequent (and trying) inhabitants of Grimmauld Place. In Bellatrix, her mother's eccentric temperament had mixed with an obduracy similar to that of Sirius's to produce an unnervingly volatile potion. Unlike Sirius, however, Bellatrix would rarely argue openly with Mrs. Black. Given a direct command she would simply smile, nod, and ignore her aunt's edicts altogether in order to pursue her own entertainments. She was secretive, as well. A case in point: she had established a private laboratory somewhere in the cellars, and when Mrs. Black had tried to install a mirror at the foot of the cellar steps to monitor the girl's comings and goings, Bellatrix had shattered it, in flagrant disobedience of house rules. This sort of sly behaviour was irritating in itself, but Bellatrix combined her erratic manner with a mad, unblinking stare that set Mrs. Black's teeth on edge. The sooner that girl's dowry was settled with the Lestranges, the better.

Her two sisters were an improvement only in the sense that they presented a change in the form of a completely different set of annoying habits. Andromeda had recently passed from a decade-long stormy, sulky phase into an equally disagreeable state of bland indifference to other members of the family. Her social skills would have shocked a troll. In conversation her mouth and nose seemed permanently twisted in a sneer, and when Mrs. Black spoke to her she managed to convey (although the content of her speech was civil enough) a disturbingly thorough contempt that apparently encompassed Mrs. Black, the House of Black, the friends and associates of the House of Black, British Wizard Society in general, and possibly the entire continent of Europe. In her more depressive moments Mrs. Black occasionally wondered where Andromeda had managed to pick up that ability. Conversing face-to-face with Andromeda was one area in which Mrs. Black had been forced to admit to a rare defeat, which meant that all communications with the girl were conducted by written missive, delivered by the house-elves. Aside from routine scryings in her mirror, Mrs. Black rarely saw Andromeda except at dinners, which were especially trying, as the sight of her smirk over the asparagus dish was enough to put off even Mrs. Black's iron digestive system.

The most promising of the three girls was undoubtedly Narcissa, who had always been a mild and obedient child, although disappointingly dull-witted. In this, it must be said, she resembled Mrs. Black's own son, Regulus. Narcissa, however, was pretty, certainly pretty enough to hold the attention of the Malfoy boy, whereas Regulus had Narcissa's slow wits but not her arresting face. He made a poor show compared to Sirius. Each year Mrs. Black's youngest son seemed to become a little weaker, a little more hang-dog, a little slower, a little more inclined to ignore the task at hand to stare off blankly into space. Much like her house-elves, in fact. This one had started to hiccough. She sighed.

"Hic!"

"Enough of this. You must get to work. Make sure that the drapes are cleaned, and the bed-linens are washed. Oh, yes, and the silverware must be polished. And send Regulus to me at once."

"Yes – hic – mistress! Hic!"


	2. Regulus

Chapter Two: Regulus

"… **and remember, my young friends," said Merlin, "****be careful."**

**Regulus ****thought these words of warning could not have been less necessary. Although they were only a few steps inside the entrance, the bright summer sunlight had already begun to fade. What little there was caught the wet edges of coiled outcrops of stone, and reflected off drops of moisture falling from overhead. Soon even that meagre light disappeared. Already Regulus had stumbled over an unexpected trough in the cave floor.**

**Merlin refused to light his wand, however. **

"**I****t will destroy your night-vision," he said, "and you will need that soon enough, I very much fear."**

**From behind, Regulus could hear Gwen's laboured breathing. Normally light-footed, she, too, stumbled, then muttered a string of Welsh curses. Soft echoes darted out of dark holes. Merlin hushed her. Only he moved forward smoothly, weaving around jagged rocks with a flick of his robes, guided perhaps by an extra sense, or by some subtle enchantment.**

**Hours passed. Onward they toiled. The passageway, never broad, began to narrow, until they were crawling almost sideways, with Merlin in the lead, wand extended before him. At one point Regulus found himself holding his breath as he slid around a sharp protuberance that left (he was sure) bloody scrapes across his chest and shoulderblades.**

**Slime from the cave-wall soaked his clothes. Gwen let out a weary sigh, whi****ch she caught half-way through, with a click of her teeth. **

**Not long after, though, the tunnel widened again, sloping downwards, the floor no longer rough stone, but gritty sand. For the first time since entering the tunnel, Merlin began to slow his pace, tapping hesitatingly against the tunnel-walls with his staff. He stopped, and raised his hand, his head cocked to one side. Gwen held her breath.**

**Regulus listened. Only the "plink!" of a drop of falling water disturbed the silence, that and the hiss of wet air working its way through his lungs. He shut his mouth, and felt the dirty damp press against his eardrums, while he strained his ears and his imagination until the blood pounded behind his eyeballs…**

**Before them – barely visible against the dark – immobile as a stone – in all its massive, ancient, impregnable glory – was a dragon. **

**The Great Wurm, guardian of the chalice.**

"**LOOK OUT!"**

**A jet of needle-thin flame burst from ****high above their heads. Regulus sprang forward, but Merlin was faster, sweeping the fire aside with a flick of his wand; but soon another flame followed, then another, and another, until the cavern was filled with a thousand incandescent arrows, hissing, whirring and spitting, ricocheting off cavern walls and burying themselves in pools of slimy water. Heat began to radiate from the floor, and steam filled the cavern. The Wurm twisted and thrashed. It was torpid at first, waking slowly after centuries of slumber, but the heat soon loosened its joints and brightened its eyes. Its tongue quivered in the air. It smelled fear, and blood.**

**Merlin spun like a Fizzing-Whizbee; his wand was everywhere at once, whipping back and forth so that it blurred. ****Beside him Gwen danced back and forth, her wand gracefully deflecting blow after blow. Regulus began to sweat. He felt a shard of rock graze his left ear – he twisted and raised his wand – a shield sprang up, but a sudden gust of blows battered his right; he spun again and muttered an incantation under his breath – but now bursts of fire were flowing so thick he could not distinguish individual flashes of light: they pounded against the back of his eyes in waves and in torrents. Dizzy, he flailed he wand, expecting at any moment a shaft of searing heat to pierce his brain. Behind him, Gwen screamed. Regulus twisted to look: she stood stunned, staring at her right hand, which was bound in green flames. Regulus pushed her to the ground and flung himself on her. The flames died, but for a brief moment the two were unprotected, and their luck would not hold.**

"Regulus?"

"**Regulus! W****hat are you doing? Save yourself!" hissed Gwen.**

"REGULUS ASMUND BLACK PAY ATTENTION WHEN I SPEAK TO YOU, IDIOT BOY!"

"Yes, mother."

"Merlin's blood! _Merlin's blood._ Regulus, if this is how you behave in class, then small wonder that half the Hogwarts faculty consider you a fool. This report," – Mrs. Black flung a roll of parchment at her son's feet – "is an atrocity. It is an embarrassment and a disappointment. It is a disappointment to your family, and particularly to me, who have worked so hard and so long to provide you with every advantage that any child could possibly want."

Mrs. Black's voice was trembling.

"I would not have believed that any member of this household might be capable of such a dismal performance. You are at the foot of _every single one_ of your classes…"

Not entirely true. Regulus had come second-to-last in History, narrowly beating his best mate, Simon Birt, with whom he had been running neck-and-neck until the final exam. On the other hand, Simon had thoroughly trounced Regulus in the last match of the school's Gobstone Championships, which, incidentally, had been held in the back row of the classroom during History Finals.

"…feckless, lazy, and irresponsible, it says, reckless use of an Exploding Bubble-Headed charm…"

_Expanded_ Bubble-Head charm. It certainly hadn't been meant to explode. The idea had been to create a sealed transparent ship large enough to hold both Regulus and Simon on an exploration beneath the Arctic ice-cap. Preliminary trials in crossing the Bubble-Head charm with an _Applifico_ incantation had been conducted under cover of darkness in late February in the deep end of the Hogwarts lake. Something had gone horribly wrong, resulting in a tidal wave that had backed-up the school's drainage system and flooded out one of the girls' toilets. The Squid had complained to the Headmaster; the headmaster, eerily, had immediately fingered Simon and Regulus, who had spent every moment of their spare time over the next few weeks scrubbing the submerged toilets free of dead Grindylow bits, with Moaning Myrtle alternately railing at them and trying to blow in Simon's ear. It had been a very unpleasant experience.

Regulus sighed.

"I have been patient. I have tried. Merlin knows that I don't ask much of you children. But I do ask that you at least attempt not to present yourself as a gormless idiot. This report…"

"**I don't know how they did it," said the Minister of Magic, "but they did. They've got her. One of our top agents. ****And, Black, you know how vital the information was that she was carrying."**

**Regulus yawned, leaned back in his chair, and crossed his legs at the ankles. He gently swirled his half-glass of ambrosia, and paused to take a sniff. The situation was dire, no doubt, but failure to properly appreciate a glass of Chateau ****Poictiers 1574 would have been … uncivilized.**

"**You see Black," said the Minister, "that parchment had everything – **_**everything**_**– our crack team of Unmentionables have been working on for the past year. Incantation X, as it were. If that document makes it into the hands of Madame LaNoir our defences won't be worth a muggle coin trick. We'll be completely vulnerable to our Enemy within the month."**

**Regulus abruptly set down his glass.**

"**You do realize, Minister, that I will need complete autonomy if I am to pull this off? And the Ministry's resources at my disposal?"**

"**Of course," said the Minister eagerly, "of course. Absolute carte blanche, my dear chap. ****And no interference from us. I've already spoken to Gringotts. Agent Leodegan will take you to the Department of Mysteries to be outfitted – ah, there you are, Gwen, my dear…" **

"**Good afternoon, Minister. Good afternoon, Agent Black," said a soft Welsh voice.**

**Regulus looked up into a pair of extraordinary blue eyes.**

"Regulus. Black. Are. You. Listening. To. Me."

Startled, Regulus jumped, and shook his head, like a dog coming out of water.

Mrs. Black was staring at him in disbelief, mouth half open.

The silence was worse than waiting for the dragon to attack.

Mrs. Black inhaled, then closed her mouth, raised herself up in her chair, grabbed with her left hand a serpentine armrest, snatched up her wand with her right, leaned forward slightly, opened her mouth to speak, and then did something very odd.

Mrs. Black burst into tears.

Regulus, whose fists had been clenched in terror, felt his face slacken.

Mrs. Black was weeping – not noisily, not even with any particular appearance of passion – but steadily, almost monotonously.

Regulus, trembling slightly, pulled a reasonably decent handkerchief from his pocket, and, remembering first to extricate the small family of beetles living inside, offered it to his mother. She waved it away, instead plucking from thin air a pristine linen cloth marked with the family crest.

The tears went on and on.

At a loss, Regulus crossed and uncrossed his toes. Was this hysteria? Should he slap her? What would happen if he tried?

"Mother…" he began, tentatively.

Mrs. Black gulped and gave a long sigh, then wiped her eyes.

"Regulus, I simply do not know what to do with you. I honestly don't. I do worry about what is to become of you."

Her apparent helplessness touched Regulus unexpectedly.

"Oh mother, I am sorry. I'll try harder, really, I will," he said, his voice cracking.

"Perhaps," said Mrs. Black wearily. "But for the moment that's neither here nor there. I need to decide what to do with you this evening. I don't want to exhibit you at dinner. Sirius is coming home, and Lucius Malfoy will be eating with us as well. You're not fit to represent the House of Black either to guests or to your brother."

Deep in thought, she absentmindedly tapped the butt of her wand against an arm rest.

"I will turn you into a toad. Whilst we are enjoying ourselves downstairs at dinner, you will be spending the evening in your room, alone, as a toad. This will be your punishment for your shameful performance at school."

"Yes mother," said Reginald, relieved.

"Tomorrow I will find a tutor for you. This unlucky individual will devote the rest of his summer to attempting to cram into your skull the knowledge that you have failed to master at school."

"Yes Mother," said Reginald.

"Now give me a kiss."

Reginald obediently puckered his lips, leaned forward, and deposited a kiss on the proffered cheek.

"You may go. Remember to tell cook to prepare you a plate of flies for dinner."

Regulus turned and stumbled out of the room, banging against the doorframe in the process.

Out in the corridor, safe at last, he paused to catch his breath. Mirrors on both sides of the corridor reflected and refracted in a dizzying pattern the few dusty beams of sunlight that penetrated the trees outside an open window. He moved slowly through the maze until he stood before a floor-length mirror. Dreamily, he reached out and pressed a finger tip against the mirror's flawed surface. A gust of wind shook the tree branches outside, and a strong ray of light flashed along the corridor and split into dozens of rainbows on the edge of each mirror frame. Regulus, blinked, disoriented, and…

"**Mate, stop staring into space – I'm telling you, you've got to go on!****"**

**Regulus blinked again, dazzled by the harsh lights leeching in from onstage, and irritably shook off his manager, who was nervously plucking at his sleeve. A passing, bareshouldered Veela bumped against him, giving him a wink and a wide-mouthed grin.**

"**Well, thank ****Boadicea you finally arrived – I was about to put a summoning spell on you. I've got to say you picked a hell of a time to be late. Can't you hear them outside?" **

**Regulus could. The manager, in fact, was almost drowned out by a roar of what sounded like a clutch of starving ****dragons who had just had their chalice stolen. The manager got behind Regulus and began to push.**

"**They sound like a clutch of starving, narked-off dragons. It's worse out near the front door. Someone got their arm broken. They are expecting the performance of your life and you had better be able to deliver. I hope you're not stoned. I am, a bit."**

**With that, they had reached the stage. Somewhere from out of the glare a voice boomed out:**

"**Ladies and gentlemen, the moment you've all been waiting for… REGULUS BLACK!"**

**The dragons out in the audience began to scream. Regulus strode out to centre stage, whipped ****his wand from out of his sleeve and brandished it in the air. The crowd hushed almost instantaneously, and Regulus slowly lowered the tip of his wand to his mouth, then took a deep breath. At the centre of the front row, looking up at him with a small smile, was a girl with long dark hair, and extraordinary blue eyes.**

"_**That old black magic has me in its spell…**_

_**That old black magic that you weave so well…"**_**  
**

***************************

Note:

What's Jo's Jo's – what's mine's mine.

Aside from that, ever read "The Secret Life of Walter Mitty" by James Thurber? Well, you pretty much have now.

"That Old Black Magic" is written by Harold Arlen and by Johnny Mercer.


	3. Narcissa

Chapter Three: Narcissa

The room swirled into existence. Flashing streaks of light slowed and broadened. They resolved into fractal patterns: snowflakes and brocade design, strange, rich ornamentation that merged and melted into duller shapes. The mundane outlines of the main hallway of Grimmauld Place began to appear, and Narcissa landed on both feet in grey reality. She sighed, and stepped past the wards and out of the fireplace, ducking her head under the lintel. Standing up, she carefully brushed a bit of soot from her smooth blond hair.

Here again. Drapes, mirrors, grime, worn-out carpet, and sociopathic aunts. Bloody hell. Not that she minded seeing Bellatrix again, or even Regulus. It was the house itself. Or the feeling that came along with the house, the knowledge that every movement she made was watched, and was potential fodder for that dessicated old spider upstairs… . Of course, the dust and the dirt and the dead house elves mounted above the stairs didn't help at all. But it had become a habit to start nervously whenever she caught a glimpse of her reflection in one of the mirrors, or even when a flash of light bounced off a windowpane or off semi-polished cutlery. She turned to the mirror beside the fireplace and breathed on it, covering it with an opaque mist, and then watched as the dusty hallway inside slowly came back into view, and she shuddered. She was going to enjoy ransacking the place.

"Narcissa?"

"Oh, hello Regulus," she said to his reflection, and then turned around and gave the real thing a friendly poke in the shoulder.

Regulus grinned. He looked worn-out underneath it, though. "Where's Malfoy? Mother said Lucius will be coming to dinner. I can't be there. I wanted to see Andromeda - I need to tell her…"

"Lucius won't be arriving for a while yet," she cut in. She hesitated, turned around, and twitched a drape to partly cover the mirror. The curtain swung back. Narcissa turned away from the mirror resignedly, and stepped backwards towards the glass, hoping to block the view. She lowered her voice and tried not to move her lips.

"Andromeda won't be coming at all. She's _taken off_."

Regulus stared, lips parted. Then he swallowed.

"With Tonks?"

Narcissa nodded. "I told her to wait it out a year or two, and that in twelve months she'd have forgotten this mudblood, and we could find her someone more suitable. But you know what she's like."

Regulus looked caught midway between repulsion and delight.

"But their children will be impure. It will completely degrade our bloodline. _Mother will be so narked off."_

Narcissa sighed again. "I know. But she's my sister. And I don't plan on being around when Aunt Odia hears of it. Anyway, since she's made up her mind I said I'd help her out, help get her started. She and Tonks don't have two coins to rub together. And I reckon at least some of the things in this house belong to our side of the family, rightfully…"

She hesitated, but Regulus looked interested, not shocked.

"What were you thinking of? Gold coin? There isn't much of that lying around. There's the jewellery, the silverware and some of the older manuscripts in the library… ."

"No, it was the jewellery I was thinking of," said Narcissa. "Especially, you know…" She hesitated, then spoke in a barely audible whisper: "_the opals_…"

Regulus's eyes widened. "If mother-."

A soft scraping was heard. Narcissa froze, and lifted a finger.

Silence. Then, BAMP! The muffled sound of a small explosion emanated from under the floorboards.

Narcissa relaxed.

"It must be Bellatrix. That came from her lab," she said wearily.

They both listened for another minute.

Thump! dra-a-ag, followed by a thump! dra-a-ag. A bell clanked.

Both Narcissa and Regulus watched silently as the noise rounded the corner of the stairwell leading up from the cellar. Bellatrix was in front, leading a muggle by a strip of cloth tied around the creature's neck. The cloth had a pointed end, and was a blackish colour with green-blue diagonal stripes. The muggle was otherwise dressed in grey. Also around its neck was a square bell, which clanked as the muggle advanced slowly on all fours.

"Oh, hello Narcissa," said Bellatrix.

"Moo," said the muggle. "Moo."

"He wants to be milked," said Bellatrix. "He's starting to feel uncomfortable."

The muggle nodded mournfully. Regulus tore his eyes away and tried to focus on Narcissa. Narcissa was still staring at the muggle, though.

"How in Merlin's name do these animals get in here?" she inquired.

"I bring them in through the front door," Bellatrix answered pleasantly. "You know that _she_" – jerking her chin in the direction of Mrs Black's room – "doesn't like to scry over the front entrance. I've brought a whole lot of them in this week. I'm making a muggle menagerie in the cellar. I've got a horse and a pig and three little ones that think they are rabbits and one that I stretched out into a giraffe and two that I glomped together into an enormous hippopotamus and…."

"Yes, but what are you going to do with them? You can't keep them forever,"

"Oh, I know. My laboratory's starting to smell. I'll have to let them all go in a few days. Maybe I'll keep one. Or two."

Narcissa, hesitated, then decided to push gently. "Would you be willing to let them go tonight, after dinner? I need to smuggle something valuable out of the house. If a wizard took it out by floo-powder Aunt Odia would know. But no one will want to search any of your muggles."

"We need mules to smuggle contraband," explained Regulus, quoting from a muggle flick that Simon Birt had once described to him, "we'll get them to swallow the goods, then we'll cut open their stomachs when they get outside."

"It's not a mule, it's a cow," protested Bellatrix.

"No, just putting the stuff in their pockets will be enough," said Narcissa.

"What do you want to smuggle?" asked Bellatrix interestedly.

"Ice," said Regulus, as professionally as possible.

"No. Jewellery. It's for Andromeda. Will you help?" asked Narcissa.

"Is it Aunt Odia's jewellery? I'll help. Do you want the silverware too? I should be able to snag the crab forks at dinner."

"I won't be there. Mother said that she's going to turn me into a toad before dinner," said Regulus.

"That's fine, said Narcissa abstractedly. "The toad thing'll keep her occupied while I steal the gemstones. I should go up to see her. She'll be calling for me any minute now."

"Narcissa? What are you talking about with Regulus?" called a voice from upstairs.

"NARCISSA!"

Note:

"Harry Potter" belongs to J.K. Rowling.

Comments are much appreciated. Even better, if you are going to leave a comment, could you please leave a fic recommendation as well? Your own, someone else's…. I want to read more HP fic, but it's hard to know where to start in this place.


End file.
